1Cademy - بخش ۵۸ - در پشیمان شدن زلیخا از فرستادن یوسف علیه السلام به زندان و فریاد و زاری کردن بر مفارقت وی / Section 58 - Zulaykha Regretting Having Sent Joseph, Peace Be Upon Him, to Prison, and Crying Out and Lamenting Her Separation from Him

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Haft Awrang

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بخش ۵۸ - در پشیمان شدن زلیخا از فرستادن یوسف علیه السلام به زندان و فریاد و زاری کردن بر مفارقت وی / Section 58 - Zulaykha Regretting Having Sent Joseph, Peace Be Upon Him, to Prison, and Crying Out and Lamenting Her Separation from Him

Original content

درین فیروزه کاخ دیر بنیاد
عجب غافل نهاد است آدمیزاد

نباشد دأب او نعمت شناسی
نداند طبع او جز ناسپاسی

به نعمت گرچه عمری بگذراند
نداند قدر آن تا در نماند

بسا عاشق که بر هجران دلیر است
به آن پندار کز معشوق سیر است

فلک چون آتش هجران فروزد
چو شمعش تن بکاهد جان بسوزد

چو زندان بر گرفتاران زندان
گلستان شد ازان گلبرگ خندان

زلیخا کش ازان سرو یگانه
به از خرم گلستان بود خانه

چو آن سرو از گلستانش بدر شد
گلستانش ز زندان تیره تر شد

به تنگ آمد در آن زندان دل او
یکی صد شد ز هجران مشکل او

چه مشکل زان بتر بر عاشق زار
که بی دلدار بیند جای دلدار

چه آسایش در آن گلزار ماند
کزو گل رخت بندد خار ماند

سنان خار در گلزار بی گل
بود خاصه پی آزار بلبل

چو خالی دید ازان گل گلشن خویش
چو غنچه چاک زد پیراهن خویش

ز غم چون پر برآید جان غمناک
چه باک ار جیب خود عاشق زند چاک

دری بر سینه خود می گشاید
که غم بیرون رود شادی درآید

به ناخن همچو گل رخسار می کند
چو سنبل موی عنبر بار می کند

چو بودش روی و موی از جان نشانی
ز هجر یار خود می کند جانی

ز دست دل به سینه سنگ می کوفت
به قصد هجر طبل جنگ می کوفت

اگرچه بود شاه خیل خوبی
شکست آمد بر او زان طبل کوبی

به فرق سر به پنجه خاک می بیخت
سرشک از دیده غمناک می ریخت

ز خاک و آب می کرد اینچنین گل
که بندد رخنه های هجر بر دل

ولی رخنه که هجران در دل افکند
بدین یک مشت گل مشکل شود بند

به دندان لعل چون عناب می خست
به عقد در عقیق ناب می خست

مگر می خواست تا بنشاند آن خون
که از جوش دلش می ریخت بیرون

رخ گلگون خود می ساخت نیلی
چو نیلوفر ز ضربت های سیلی

که سرخی در خور آمد خرمی را
نشاید جز کبودی ماتمی را

ز دل خونین رقم بر رو همی زد
به حسرت دست بر زانو همی زد

که این کاری که من کردم که کرده ست
چنین زهری که من خوردم که خورده ست

درین محنتسرا یک عشق پیشه
نزد چون من به پای خویش تیشه

به دست خویش چشم خویش کندم
ز کوری خویش را در چه فکندم

ز غم کوهی به پشت خویش بستم
به زیر کوه پشت خود شکستم

دلم خون شد چو حنا روزگاری
که آوردم به کف زیبا نگاری

ز دستان فلک بختمن آشفت
ز دست خویش دادم دامنش مفت

به جانم از دل آواره خویش
نمی دانم چه سازم چاره خویش

بدینسان نوحه جانسوز می کرد
شب اندوه خود را روز می کرد

ز هر چیزی کزو بویی شنیدی
به بوی او ز جان آهی کشیدی

گرفتی دمبدم پیراهن او
که روزی سوده بودی بر تن او

چو گل عطر دماغ خویش کردی
بدان تسکین داغ خویش کردی

گهی رو بر گریبانش نهادی
به صد حسرت زهش را بوسه دادی

که طوق حشمت آن گردن است این
چه گفتم رشته جان من است این

گهی در آستینش دست بردی
ز بخت آن دستبرد خود شمردی

نهادی بر دو چشم خود به تعظیم
به یاد ساعدش کردی پر از سیم

گهی کردی به دیده دامنش جای
که روزی سوده رو بر پشت آن پای

نمودی ناامید از پایبوسی
به دامنبوسی او چاپلوسی

چو دور از فرق دیدی افسرش را
فشاندی گرد لعل و گوهرش را

که این همسایه آن فرق بوده ست
جهانی بر زمینش فرق سوده ست

کمر را کز میانش یاد دادی
چو دیدی بندگی را داد دادی

به یاد آهوی صید افکن خویش
کمندش ساختی در گردن خویش

چو زرکش حله اش از هم گشادی
به گریه دیده پر نم گشادی

بشستی دامن از اشک نیازش
ز اشک لعل خود بستی طرازش

چو نعلینش به جایی جفت دیدی
ازان بوسی به جانی مفت دیدی

بدو جفتش شدن در دل گذشتی
ز بی جفتیش طاقت طاق گشتی

نهادی بند بر دل از دوالش
ز خون دیده دادی رنگ آلش

بدینسان هر دمش از نو غمی بود
ز هر چیزی جدا در ماتمی بود

چو قدر نعمت دیدار نشناخت
به داغ دوری از دیدار بگداخت

پشیمان شد ولی سودی نبودش
به غیر از صبر بهبودی نبودش

ولی صبر از چنان رو چون توان کرد
کی از دل مهر او بیرون توان کرد

هلاک عاشق از جانان جداییست
به تخصیص آنکه بعد از آشناییست

چو افتد عقد صحبت در میانه
بود فرقت عذاب بی کرانه

وگر پیوند صحبت در میان نیست
جدایی ناخوش است اما چنان نیست

به تنگ آمد ز خود ترک خودی کرد
به نیکی چون نشد میل بدی کرد

سر خود بر در و دیوار می زد
به سینه خنجر خونخوار می زد

به بام قصر می شد پاسبان وار
کز آنجا افکند خود را نگونسار

طناب از گیسوی شبرنگ می ساخت
بدان راه نفس را تنگ می ساخت

خلاصی از جفای دهر می جست
ز شربتدار جام زهر می جست

ز هر چیزی که پس یا پیش می خواست
همه اسباب مرگ خویش می خواست

همی بوسید دایه دست و پایش
همی گفت از صمیم دل دعایش

که از جانان مرتب باد کامت
ز لعل او لبالب باد جامت

رهاییت آنچنان باد از جدایی
که هرگز نایدت یاد از جدایی

زمانی با خود آی این بی خودی چند
خردمندی گزین نابخردی چند

دل ما را ز غم خون می کنی تو
که کرده ست اینکه اکنون می کنی تو

ز من بشنو که هستم پیر این کار
شکیبایی بود تدبیر این کار

ز بی صبری فتادی در تب و تاب
بر این آتش بریز از ابر صبر آب

چو گیرد صرصر محنت وزیدن
نباید همچو کاه از جا پریدن

به آن باشد که در دامن کشی پای
به سان کوه باشی پای بر جای

صبوری مایه فیروزی آمد
قوی تر پایه بهروزی آمد

صبوری میوه امیدت آرد
صبوری دولت جاویدت آرد

به صبر اندر صدف باران شود در
به صبر از لعل و گوهر کان شود پر

به صبر از دانه آید خوشه بیرون
ز خوشه رهروان را توشه بیرون

به صبر اندر رحم یک قطره آب
شود نه ماه را ماه جهانتاب

زلیخا با دل و جان رمیده
شد از گفتار دایه آرمیده

گریبانی دریده تا به دامن
کشید از صبر کوشی پا به دامن

ولی صبری که گیرد عاشقش پیش
به قول ناصحان مصلحت کیش

چو گردد ناصح از گفتار خاموش
کند آن حرف را عاشق فراموش

English translation

In this ancient turquoise palace, How strangely heedless humankind is! Gratitude for blessings is not its custom; Its nature knows nothing but ingratitude. Though one may spend a lifetime amid blessings, One knows their worth only when they no longer remain. Many a lover boldly endures separation, Imagining that the beloved has brought satiety. But when heaven kindles the fire of separation, It wastes the body like a candle and burns the soul. When the prison closed around the prisoners, The garden flourished because of that smiling rose petal. For Zulaykha, because of that peerless cypress, Her house was better than a joyous garden. When that cypress departed from her garden, Her garden became darker than a prison. Her heart grew distressed within that prison; Through separation, one difficulty became a hundred. What affliction is worse for a wretched lover Than seeing the beloved's place without the beloved? What comfort remained in that rose garden When the rose departed and only thorns remained? The thorn's spear in a flowerless garden Exists especially to torment the nightingale. When she saw her garden empty of that rose, Like a bud, she tore open her garment. When the sorrowful soul is overwhelmed by grief, What does it matter if the lover tears open her collar? She opens a door upon her breast So grief may leave and joy enter. With her nails she tore her face like a rose; She plucked her amber-scented hair like hyacinth. Since her face and hair were tokens of her life, In separation from her beloved she tore at her very life. Driven by her heart, she struck stones against her breast; She beat the drum of war against separation. Although she was sovereign of the host of beauty, That beating of the drum brought defeat upon her. With her fingers she sifted dust upon the crown of her head And poured tears from her sorrowful eyes. From earth and water she thus fashioned clay, Hoping to seal the breaches separation made in her heart. But the breach that separation opens in the heart Can scarcely be sealed with this mere handful of clay. With her teeth she wounded lips red as jujubes; She damaged pure carnelian with rows of pearls. Perhaps she wished to quell the blood That surged outward from the tumult of her heart. She turned her rose-red face dark blue, Like a water lily, beneath the blows of her hands, For redness befits rejoicing, While nothing but dark blue befits mourning. With her bloodied heart she inscribed marks upon her face; In anguish she struck her hand upon her knee, Saying: Who has done a deed like the one I have done? Who has swallowed poison such as I have swallowed? In this house of affliction, no devotee of love Has struck an axe against her own feet as I have. With my own hand I gouged out my own eye; Through my blindness I cast myself into a well. I bound a mountain of grief upon my back And beneath that mountain broke my back. For an age my heart became blood-red like henna Until I brought a beautiful beloved into my grasp. The tricks of heaven threw my fortune into turmoil; With my own hand I freely let his hem slip away. By my life, because of my own wandering heart, I do not know how to devise a remedy for myself. Thus she uttered soul-searing lamentations And turned the night of her sorrow into day. Whenever she detected his scent upon anything, At his fragrance she sighed from the depths of her soul. Again and again she took up his shirt, Which once had rested against his body. Like a rose she perfumed her senses with it And thereby soothed the burning wound within her. At times she laid her face upon its collar And kissed its neckband with a hundred regrets, Saying: This encircled that majestic neck— What am I saying? This is the thread of my life. At times she slipped her hand into its sleeve And counted that seizure as a gift of fortune. She reverently placed it over both her eyes And, remembering his forearm, filled it with silver. At times she gave its hem a place upon her eyes, For once it had brushed against the back of his foot. Despairing of kissing his feet, She humbly kissed the hem instead. When she saw his crown far from his head, She scattered dust over its rubies and pearls, Saying: This was once the neighbor of that head; A whole world rubbed its head upon the ground before it. When she saw the belt that recalled his waist, She rendered it the full tribute of servitude. Remembering her own prey-taking gazelle, She made its lasso into a noose around her neck. When she unfolded his gold-brocaded robe, Weeping opened her eyes and filled them with moisture. She washed its hem with tears of supplication And embroidered it with her ruby tears. Whenever she saw his sandals paired somewhere, She deemed a kiss upon them cheaply bought even with her life. She imagined being joined with him as their pair, And, through her own lack of a mate, lost all endurance. With their straps she placed a bond upon her heart And dyed them crimson with the blood of her eyes. Thus, at every moment, a fresh grief arose for her; Each object separately plunged her into mourning. Because she had not recognized the worth of the blessing of seeing him, She melted in the branding fire of being far from his sight. She repented, but repentance brought her no benefit; There was no remedy for her except patience. Yet how can one be patient while parted from such a face? How can love for him ever leave the heart? A lover's destruction lies in separation from the beloved, Especially when separation follows intimacy. When the bond of companionship has been tied, Parting becomes a torment without limit. But when no bond of companionship exists, Separation is unpleasant, though not to the same degree. She became weary of herself and abandoned self-possession; When goodness did not help, she inclined toward evil. She struck her head against the doors and walls And drove a bloodthirsty dagger toward her breast. Like a watchman, she climbed to the palace roof, Intending to cast herself headlong from there. She fashioned a rope from her night-dark tresses And with it sought to constrict the passage of her breath. She sought release from the cruelty of time And asked the cupbearer for a cup of poison. Whatever she sought, behind or before her, She sought only the means of her own death. The nurse kept kissing her hands and feet And prayed for her from the sincerity of her heart: May your desire from your beloved continually be fulfilled; May your cup brim over with the ruby wine of his lips. May you be so delivered from separation That separation never again comes to your mind. Come to yourself a moment—how long this senselessness? Choose wisdom—how long this foolishness? You make our hearts bleed with grief; Who has ever done what you are doing now? Listen to me, for I am experienced in this affair: Patience is the proper remedy for this affair. Through impatience you have fallen into feverish turmoil; Pour water from the cloud of patience upon this fire. When the tempest of affliction begins to blow, One must not fly from one's place like straw. It is better to draw one's feet beneath one's skirt And stand firm in place like a mountain. Patience is the source of victory; It is the strongest foundation of prosperity. Patience will bring forth the fruit of your hope; Patience will bring you everlasting felicity. Through patience, a raindrop becomes a pearl within the shell; Through patience, the mine becomes filled with rubies and jewels. Through patience, an ear of grain emerges from a seed; From the ear comes provisions for travelers. Through patience, a single drop of water within the womb Becomes, after nine months, a world-illuminating moon. Zulaykha, whose heart and soul had fled in terror, Was calmed by the nurse's words. With her collar torn down to the hem, She drew the feet of striving for patience beneath her skirt. Yet the patience that a lover undertakes At the urging of prudent counselors lasts only so long: As soon as the counselor falls silent, The lover forgets those words.

Updated 2026-07-18

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Ganjoor

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